


Draco's Musings

by Flyingcow69



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Hermione Granger, Bottom Draco, Dominant Bottom, Draco Malfoy is Clueless About Muggle Things, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Oblivious Ron, Smart Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 05:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7347814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyingcow69/pseuds/Flyingcow69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's sixth year, and one sneering Draco Malfoy is determined to win the House Cup with his most convenient asset -  Quidditch. Trouble is, Harry Potter has the same goal in mind, and the consequences aren't going to be pretty. <br/>Warning: Smut, angst</p>
            </blockquote>





	Draco's Musings

**Author's Note:**

> A very big hello to everyone who happens to stumble onto this fanfiction. This is my very first fanfiction, and my very first Drarry fanfiction at that, so please leave me reviews. All feedback is welcome! :P

"Oh.. Harry, stop it.."   
The tension in the air was thick as two bodies writhed together in the darkness of the Room of Requirement. Sweat glittered through where light fought through the room, painting the two in cream and silver.   
Draco was pinned against the wall, breath ragged and cheeks tinged with pink. The Slytherin robes he had worn with so much prise were now dishevelled, hanging off the left of his thigh, green and silver tie now discarded as Harry took over his sensations.   
Every thrust brought a world of pleasure to him, and as he opened his eyes, spots of black and grey danced around his field of vision. The Boy who Lived bent over him, his sworn enemy, kissing and caressing him with such ferocity the world rushed around him, blinding him with ecstacy. 

"This is what you get for that Quidditch Match yesterday."

Draco's eyes snapped open. It was true that he had won on a foul, and in turn won Slytherin the House Cup. But this was not what he deserved. This sudden pleasure, combined with the culmination of having an awful crush on Potter and hatred at his own incompetence crushed him with pain. He let a tear travel down his cheek as he turned his head, the thrusts now painful instead of pleasurable. He was nothing but an outlet for Potter's own frustration. Nothing but a tool. 

"Malfoy. Get up."

The harshness in Potter's voice brought him back to reality. He staggered, and began to pick up the remnants of clothing strewn across the floor. His legs would not obey him and trickles of white threatened to spill from between his thighs. Malfoy cast a longing look up at the Golden Boy as he shouldered his robes, tie carelessly twisted onto the collar of his shirt. He'd been wrong, as always. Potter did not love him. He didn't even consider them friends. A scowl crossed his face as he covered his eyes with his hands. He would not cry now. He, the heir to the Malfoy line, did not care for the scourge that was Harry Potter. No, somebody had definitely cursed him. That was it. There was no way in Merlin that he viewed Potter tolerable, nevermind attractive. But he still couldn't get over the image of brilliant green eyes, the exact pair that tormented his heart everyday. 

"I hope you learned your lesson. Whether we are enemies or not, there is one thing we have in common."

Potter grabbed the blonde and crushed his lips in an embrace. The small of his thumb brushed his jaw as his hand travelled up Malfoy's back. His aroma was addictive, a darkness that fulfilled his every desire. In his case, the desires were never reciprocated. 

"We both think we're so guarded, big really we're full of weaknesses."

The last thing Malfoy remembered that night were the hands that drew him into bed, and the gasps of pleasure that would soon turn in moans as he fell into oblivion, dead asleep in Potter's arms.

\----------

"Get up, Harry! Really, you're so frustrating."  
Harry sat up and yawned. This was the fifth time that Hermione had broken into the boy's dorms this week. With his luck, he would find her his permanent replacement for an alarm clock. 

"What are you doing here?"

Flustered, indignant with a scowl on her face, Hermione grabbed Ron by the hair and threw him out of the four poster bed he had previously been buried in. 

"What am I doing here? You have Quidditch in ten minutes!"

Harry glanced at Ron before falling back into bed.   
"You mightn't realise this, Mione, but nobody's going to cheer for us since that defeat."

Hermione shook her head.  
"It's even worse if you get beat down by it. You taught Malfoy a lesson, didn't you?" 

Harry's eyes widened. Ah yes, he certainly had. Memories from last night asaulted him, Malfoy's sweet aroma combined with his even sweeter face, all tinged with red and crimson. He had never noticed beforehand how the Slytherin moved in resistance to his body, how his cheeks flushed whenever he was touched, how his sensitivity rose to new heights whenever they made eye contact. A smile crept onto his face as he dressed, much to Hermione's delight. Should Malfoy beat him again in a game, the consequences would be much more severe. 

Breakfast in the Great Hall was rather a normal ordeal. Harry sipped his pumpkin peacefully, quite a feat between the usual squabbling of Ron and Hermione. Gryffindor had become a good deal quiter these days, thanks to their loss of the House Cup not very long ago. Anger coursed through him as he recalled the Snitch that had been knocked from his grasp with the tail of Malfoy's broomstick, and the disappointment on Wood's face as he had left the pitch. His fist clenched, and he glanced towards the Slytherin table.   
As usual, Malfoy was surrounded by the same gang of lackeys that had accompanied him since first year. Pansy simpered next to him as Crabbe and Goyle listened intensely to something Malfoy seemed to be explaining. To his credit, Malfoy seemed unruffled, looking every bit the pureblood heir he was born to be. For a split second Harry wondered if last night had even been real, and not just the product of his extensive imagination - this was quickly dismissed. How impact on Malfoy was definite, even if he was doing a good job covering it up. 

"Say, Harry, Malfoy's looking this way," Feed whispered in his ear. 

He nearly jumped. Perhaps his observations were to obvious; he should really refrain from starting at Malfoy so frequently. 

"Did he challenge you to another duel?" George whispered in the other ear. 

"No," replied Harry, now irritated. 

"Curse you with some dark magic?"  
"Stab you with his broom?"  
"Enchant you with a particularly strong love potion?"

"NO!" Harry exclaimed, quickly wolfing down his plate of bacon and eggs. 

The two sniggered as if sharing some secret he didn't know. George downed another glass of pumpkin juice before throwing it aside. 

"That's quite all right, Harry. From the way your Quidditch skills are going, I reckon Malfoy doesn't stand a chance."

Harry looked up from his destroyed plate, a beam on his face. It seemed as if all his negativity since that fateful day had gone - here stupid two people who supported him despite the occurrence. It was just the motivation he needed to drag himself up and start practising. 

"Really?"

The twins laughed. "You really are clueless. Practice tonight." 

"Tonight? Curfew's at nine."

"Really, Harry, have you ever thought of getting around that dreadful rule?"

Harry was rather confused as he felt the tip of a wand tap his robe pockets. The Marauder's Map? Fred must've stolen it from Lupin quite some time ago. In any case, it wasn't going to help him. After the match against Slytherin, Harry had surrendered his Firebolt, his pride and joy, to the horrors of the storage closet. 

"How am I supposed to use this?"

He looked up to two retreating heads of varying shares of ginger. Well, they expected him to find a way to use it. And if Harry was good at anything, it was being curious.


End file.
